


Bedrest

by pukefiend



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Caretaking, Emetophilia, Fever, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pukefiend/pseuds/pukefiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pete comes down with something, and Pat takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedrest

Pete woke up to a feeling of soreness in every inch of his body. He didn’t even feel like he had the energy to roll over in his bed. The sheets were tangled around his arms, and he felt a chill run through his body. He wanted to pull the covers up over himself and go back to bed, but he noticed Patrick poke his head into the room.

“Hey Pete. Finally up?” he said, smiling a little.

Pete just groaned in response. Even that made his throat burn, and he grimaced slightly.

“Alright well, you better get up,” Patrick said, assuming Pete was just half asleep and grumpy. “We have a photo shoot today,” he said.

“Pat,” Pete managed, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

“You okay man? Your voice is shot,” Patrick said, crinkling his brow as he entered the room. 

“Don’t feel good,” Pete said, tugging the sheets up his body a little. Patrick rushed over to the bed, concern evident on his face. 

“You don’t look good either,” Pat said, putting his hand on Pete’s sweating forehead. He frowned.

“You’re warm,” he said. “You probably have a fever. I’m gonna get a thermometer. Hold on.”

Pete watched as Patrick walked into the connected bathroom, hearing him rifle through the cabinets for a thermometer. He quickly came back in with the thermometer in hand.

“Open your mouth, Pete,” Trick said quietly, and Pete silently obeyed. Patrick stuck the thermometer in his mouth, and Pete closed his mouth down on it.

“It has to be under your tongue,” Patrick instructed. Pete nodded slightly to show his comprehension. 

Pat stood with a concerned expression on his face, eyes noticing the beads of sweat on Pete’s exposed collarbone. He reached over to pull the blanket up Pete’s chest. Pete smiled weakly in appreciation. 

The thermometer beeped, announcing that it had it’s reading. Pat took it from Pete’s mouth, examining the reading with a frown.

“Geez Pete,” Trick murmured, “Hundred and one. You know what, I’ll go tell them to reschedule today’s shoot. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick quickly ran down the stairs, nearly bumping into Joe. 

“Whoa, what’s the rush Pat?” Joe asked.

“Joe, can you tell them to reschedule our shoot? Pete’s sick,” Patrick said.

“Oh yeah, sure. Is he okay?” Joe said.

“Yeah I got it,” Trick replied. 

“Alright. I’ll get on that.”

“Thanks Joe,” Patrick said, heading back up the stairs. 

Pat shut the door behind him when he reentered Pete’s room. 

“Hey Pete. Anything I can get you?” Trick said, approaching the bed again. 

Pete rolled over to face Patrick, grimacing at the way all of his muscles protested. 

“Aspirin?” he suggested quietly, his voice raspy. Pat nodded, heading into the bathroom. Pete could hear him shaking pills out of a bottle, and the faucet running as he filled a cup with tap water. 

“Here,” Tricky said, pressing two pills in Pete’s clammy hand. “Sit up a little.”

Pete pushed himself onto the pillows into a half upright position, taking the glass from Pat. He popped the pills into his mouth, taking them with a swallow of water. His sore throat objected to the foreign objects, but he managed to keep them down.

“Thanks,” he croaked out, setting the water on the bedside table.

“You need anything else?” Pat asked. 

“Cuddle me?” Pete asked, his voice a dry whisper. Patrick smiled at him. 

“Yeah okay,” he said, getting on top of the bed. He wriggled his body down under the covers, wrapping an arm around Pete’s sweating shoulders. Pete pressed himself closer to Trick’s warmth, even though Patrick could feel Pete was feverishly hot. 

Pete, on the other hand, felt freezing, even covered in a blanket and pressed close to Patrick. He could feel a cold, fever induced sweat all over his body. The soreness in his body was making his head start to throb, but he took comfort in Patrick’s presence and just tried to get some sleep. He slowly became aware of rain outside, drumming on the roof and window, making his head throb in time. He slowly raised his hand to his forehead. Patrick turned closer to him, his eyes drifting across Pete’s face.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Headache,” Pete answered hoarsely. Trick leaned in close to kiss Pete’s neck. 

“The aspirin should help,” he replied slowly, moving his free hand across Pete’s torso. Pete sighed softly. 

With each dull throb of his skull, Pete could feel his muscles ache and his stomach shift. He grimaced at the feeling, like slow growing nausea. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on Patrick’s touch and ignore the illness in his body. 

He pulled Trick closer to him, enjoying the quiet squeak he made. Patrick buried his face against Pete’s shoulder, kissing him lightly.

The longer Pete lay there, the more he could feel his stomach churning. What started as slight discomfort was building into full blown nausea. He tried to breathe slowly through his mouth to stave off the sickness, but he could feel saliva flooding his mouth. 

“Trick?” Pete said softly. Patrick immediately sat upright, eyes darting around Pete’s face.

“What’s wrong? You look pale,” Patrick replied, wringing his hands.

“Can I have some water?” 

Pete tried to avoid saying too much, mostly because it made his throat ache, but also for fear that he might throw up. 

Pat nodded quickly, helping Pete to sit up slightly. He handed him the water from the bedstand, watching as Pete sipped at it. It kind of helped his throat, but did nothing for the slowly building unsettled state of his stomach. Pete set the water aside and pushed himself back under the covers. Patrick had a look of pity on his face as he pulled the blanket back over Pete.

“You’ll be alright Pete. Just try to sleep,” Pat said quietly, pulling Pete close to him. 

Pete tried to focus on breathing slowly, but the discomfort was mounting. He felt almost lightheaded with nausea and fever. He had the distinct feeling like something was pressing against the bottom of his jaw that he knew was a side effect of the nausea. Pete swallowed hard, trying his best to subdue the feeling. 

It wasn’t working.

At this point, Pete couldn’t keep fighting it. He felt bile rising up in his throat, and suddenly, splashing out onto everything in front of him. The thin, yellow fluid soaked into the blankets, spilling all over Pete’s bare chest and onto Pat’s arm that was wrapped around him. 

Patrick immediately recoiled, sitting upright and holding his soaked arm at an awkward angle. Pete sat up a little bit more as a second gush of vomit spilled out of him with a retch. He grasped his hands around his sore stomach as he held in another gag, spitting onto himself.

“Pete oh my god are you okay? Shit shit-” Patrick muttered, alternating between clenching and splaying his fingers. 

Pete spat again, the taste of bile still sour in his mouth. 

“Oh god, uh, what can I do to help Pete?” Trick asked, staring intently at Pete.

When Pete didn’t say anything, he continued. 

“Let’s just...I’ll help you clean up, okay?” he said, peeling back the vomit covered blankets. The puke had soaked through to Pete’s body, and Patrick grimaced at the sight. 

“You okay Pete?” Pat asked quietly. Pete nodded slowly, sitting himself upright. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. This sucks,” Trick said hurriedly. He kissed a clean spot on Pete’s neck. 

He got out of the bed, offering his clean hand to help Pete out. Pete moved gingerly, every muscle in his body aching. 

“Oh Pete,” Patrick said as he felt Pete rest a majority of his weight onto his arm. “You’re really not doing good. I’m nervous about letting you be alone to clean up.”

“Then come with me,” Pete said hoarsely.

Patrick blushed a little. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

Pete smiled weakly. “Yeah,” he said. 

“Okay, if you say so,” Pat replied, wringing his hands. “Alright, come on Pete.” 

Trick started walking slowly towards the bathroom, trying not to focus on the scent of sick drifting off of Pete. He crinkled his nose up slightly. Pete shuffled along next to Pat until they made it into the cool, tiled bathroom. Pete shivered, quickly shutting his eyes as Patrick flicked the lights on. 

“Hey, Pete.” 

Pete opened his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the lights. 

“How does a bath sound?” Pat asked. 

“Good. Won’t have to stand then,” Pete replied hoarsely, and Patrick nodded. 

“Right then, why don’t you sit down? I’ll fill the tub,” Trick told him. 

Pete took that to mean ‘sit on the floor’, and he eased himself down onto the cold floor. Patrick watched him, letting out a tiny laugh. 

“Okay that works,” he said, turning on the faucet. He stuck his puke covered arm under the water, washing the bile down the drain. Pat could feel the water warming up. He glanced over at Pete, smiling gently at him. Pete crookedly smiled back. 

Patrick closed up the drain, watching the tub slowly fill with warm water. 

“How’re you feeling sweetie?” Patrick asked, taking a seat on the edge of the tub. Pete licked his lips dryly. 

“Not good,” he said quietly. Pat nodded sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he added, peering into the tub. “Do you want some water maybe?”

Pete shrugged. 

“I’ll just go grab it,” Patrick decided, getting up and returning to the bedroom. Pete watched him through the doorway, admiring him for just his presence. He smiled a little as Patrick returned, handing him the glass of water.

“Stay hydrated,” Pat said softly. Pete nodded a little, taking a sip of water. Trick squatted down to peck him on the cheek. 

“Ew no I’m gross,” Pete muttered. 

“Your cheek is clean,” Pat told him. “Come on. The bath is full.”

Pete took another sip of water before setting it on the floor. Patrick helped him stand up slowly, all of Pete’s muscles protesting the action. Pat turned off the water with his free hand.

“Take your boxers off,” Trick said helpfully. Pete moaned grumpily, so Pat grabbed the hip of his boxers and tugged them down his legs. Pete stepped out of them, barely reacting. Patrick mentally thanked Pete for being far less modest than him. 

Pete slowly stepped into the tub, nearly slipping when his foot touched the hot water. Patrick grabbed Pete’s arm, helping him get his second leg in. Pete slowly sank down to his but in the tub, his joints protesting slightly. He groaned out a breath as Pat took a seat on the side of the tub. 

Pete looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Pat asked him. “Do you need something?”

“Come in with me, Tricky,” Pete said, half whining. Pat could feel flush coming to his face. 

“Uh, in the tub?”

Pete nodded slowly. Patrick bit his lip. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Come in with me,” Pete said again. Pat sighed slightly, but smiled at Pete. He pulled his shirt off, hoping Pete wasn’t inspecting his body too thoroughly. He tossed it onto the floor, standing up to tug his shorts down. He made eye contact with Pete for a second, embarrassed by the way Pete was slightly smiling at the sight of him. Trick twisted his mouth to the side as he shimmied his boxers off. 

Pat stepped into the tub across the way from Pete, slowly taking a seat in the warm water. He stayed still, trying not to stare at the vomit still on Pete’s chest. 

“You’re uncomfortable?” Pete said quietly.

“No,” Patrick said, shaking his head slightly. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said. Pete laughed weakly.

“I’m not gonna break,” he croaked out. Trick cracked a smile. 

“I know,” he replied.

“You know what would make me feel better?” Pete said. 

“What?” Trick asked. 

“It would make me feel better if you came over here,” Pete answered quietly. Patrick pulled his lips into his mouth slightly. 

“Okay,” Pat said finally. Pete stuck his legs out and Pat scooted over to rest near Pete. 

“You’re all dirty,” Patrick said as Pete leaned in to kiss his neck. “Here, give me that washcloth,” he told Pete. Pete slowly reached behind himself, tossing the washcloth into the water. Patrick dunked the cloth into the warm water. It dripped as he pulled it out of the water, turning to face Pete. He swiped the wet cloth across the drying sick on Pete’s chest, slowly working his way up to Pete’s neck and chin before Pete suddenly leaned in to give him a small kiss. 

“Thanks,” Pat said with a grin. Pete smiled back as Patrick went back to cleaning him up. Pat cleaned off Pete’s stomach, trying his best not to think about the fact that what he was cleaning was vomit. He breathed out through his nose slowly, tossing the washcloth onto the tile. 

“That’s better,” Patrick told him, kissing Pete again. Pete smiled slightly into the kiss. 

“You’re gonna get yourself sick,” Pete quietly said as he pulled away. 

“Oh. Well, if that happens, I guess you’ll just have to take care of me,” Patrick replied, turning his back to Pete and sinking down into the water to lean onto Pete’s chest, sitting between his legs. Pete sighed, wrapping his arm around Patrick’s slightly chubby tummy. Patrick turned to bury his face in Pete’s warm neck. He could still feel how hot Pete’s skin was from the fever. Pete, on the other hand, was focused on Patrick’s warm, soft body. 

“This is nice,” Pete managed. Patrick nodded. 

“Maybe,” Pat suggested, “we could do something like this again. When you aren’t sick.” His face lit up slightly as if he had a thought. 

“We could take a bubble bath!” Trick announced. Pete smiled. 

“That’s a good idea,” he replied hoarsely. “You know those...bath bombs?”

Patrick’s face lit up. “Yeah we could get some of those,” he said with a chuckle. Pete could feel it under his fingertips, and it made him grin. 

“Thank you,” Pete told him. 

“For taking care of you?” Pat asked. Pete nodded. “Of course Pete,” Trick said. “I just want you to feel better. Hopefully, this is a twenty four hour thing,” he concluded. Pete sank lower into the warm water, appreciating the way it took the edge off the tightness in his muscles. Patrick shut his eyes with a yawn. 

“Do you want to take a nap?” Patrick asked slowly. “In the bed. Not in the bath,” he clarified with a smile. 

“Sure. I think some sleep might be good for me,” Pete replied. 

“Alright. Here, let me-” Pat slowly slid himself up onto the side of the tub, “let me help you out.” 

He stood up and yanked a towel off the rack to wipe himself dry. He tucked it around his waist, offering his hand to Pete. 

Pete stood up gingerly, slowly stepping out onto the bathmat. He wrapped his arms around his body, dripping and chilly. Patrick hastily pulled down another towel for Pete. Pete reached his arm out for it, but Pat shook his head. 

“I got it,” he said. Patrick wrapped the towel around Pete’s shaking shoulders, rubbing the water off him. Pete watched him with a half smile. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“I told you,” Trick replied as he moved to Pete’s muscled arms. “I want you to feel better.”

Pete smiled, making eye contact with Pat as he dried his stomach. Patrick wiped off Pete’s hip, eyes carefully avoiding Pete’s dick, making Pete laugh hoarsely. Patrick shot Pete a look and a smile as he finished drying off his legs. 

“Alright alright,” Pat said. “You want some sweats?”

Pete nodded as Pat leaned into the bath to open the drain. 

“Here,” Patrick said, tossing Pete his boxers off the floor. Pete stepped into them as Patrick found his own boxers and pulled them up under his towel. Pete pecked him on the cheek as Pat dropped the towel onto the linoleum. 

“Come on,” Trick said, grabbing Pete’s hand. 

“Sorry,” Pete said softly. “My hand is clammy.”

Patrick laughed. “That’s okay babe,” he said. Pete smiled as Patrick lead him back into the bedroom. 

Pete took a seat onto the edge of the bed as Pat rummaged through Pete’s dresser for a pair of sweatpants. He knelt on the floor, prompting Pete to stick his feet into the pants. Pete stood up, pulling them up. 

“Thanks,” Pete said. Pat nodded. 

“Hey,” he said. “Let me take your temperature again.” 

Pete nodded, laying down on the bed and tugging the sheets up. Trick grabbed the thermometer off the bedstand as Pete opened his mouth. Pat gently placed the thermometer in his mouth for him, getting up onto the bed with Pete. He rolled onto his stomach with a warm sigh. The beeping of the thermometer prompted Patrick to swing his hand around to grab it out of his mouth. He pulled it close to read it.

“Okay, you’re doing slightly better Pete,” Patrick murmured. Pete let out another sigh, and Patrick rolled close to him, snuggling up to his torso.

“And next time Pete? Tell me if you feel nauseous.” 

Pete groaned in response.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend creakybones for proofreading!  
> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate comments; tell me what you liked, tell me what I can improve on. I'd be very grateful!


End file.
